


Carry You There

by mammothluv



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Regina under no circumstances trusts Emma to take care of herself when she has the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry You There

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Swan Queen Week Summer 2016, Day 4: Illness.
> 
> All the thanks in the world to lytab5 for the encouragement and edits. You are the booze infused dessert to my Mary Berry. 
> 
> Once Upon a Time belongs to ABC and the the show's creators. I'm not making any profit and no copyright infringement is intended.

“This is ridiculous.” 

The familiar voice filters through the throbbing in Emma’s head. She welcomes the edge of judgment in Regina’s tone and tries to focus on it, an anchor in the room she’s pretty sure isn’t actually swaying but damn sure feels like it every time she tries to raise her head off the couch. 

“You are not going to get better eating Oreos and drinking soda, Miss Swan.” 

The aforementioned items disappear suddenly from where they had been resting on Emma's lap.

“Hey,” Emma protests, her voice coming out slightly more pathetic than she’d prefer in front of Regina. 

“Ridiculous,” Regina repeats as she scans the loft, taking in the balled up tissues surrounding Emma. “Where are the... your parents?” The final word of the question comes out as pure accusation.

“They’re doing a romantic weekend in the woods thing,” Emma replies. 

“I’ll call them.”

Emma frowns at the thought.

“Or go find them if they’ve done something asinine like not take their phones,” Regina offers. “Though I shudder to think what I might see if I show up without warning.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother them. I’m fine,” Emma insists.

“Miss Swan, you forget I just witnessed your pathetic attempt to get off the couch which culminated in you collapsing after raising your head a mere three inches. You are most certainly not fine.”

“I just really don’t want to bother them,” Emma repeats. “I sent the baby home with Ashley,” she adds, hoping Regina will be impressed that she made at least one adult decision in ensuring her brother wouldn’t catch this flu. 

Emma’s ears are a little stuffy but she’s pretty sure Regina’s only response is to angrily mutter “romantic weekend in the woods” under her breath in disbelief before insisting, “You’re coming home with me then.” 

Emma’s breath catches for just a moment before she thinks of all the reasons that’s a terrible idea. It’s bad enough Regina is seeing her like this right now. What if she throws up again? What if Regina sees her vomit? That’s a line she definitely does not want to cross. 

“I don’t really feel like moving around and getting in the car, Regina. Just leave me here. Really, I’ll be fine. I’ve had the flu before and taken care of myself just fine.”

“Doubtful,” is Regina’s only reply before Emma feels the rush of magic surround them. 

Seconds later she’s snuggled under the covers of a bed, which she has to admit is much more comfortable than the couch in the loft, in what she recognizes as one of Regina’s guest rooms. She wriggles around just a little finding a comfortable spot and admiring how soft the mattress and pillows are. 

When she finally gets settled she realizes Regina’s standing at the side of the bed looking down at her; she’s not smiling but there’s something soft in her eyes that Emma instinctively wants more of. 

“I’ll be right back, Miss Swan,” Regina says and then she’s gone. 

Emma closes her eyes. Her head is still pounding and the waves of nausea haven’t stopped but for the first time all day she feels comfortable. 

She hears Regina enter the room moments later, her footsteps softer than usual, and then the sound of items being set down on the nightstand next to her. 

“I’ve brought you water and ginger ale,” Regina reports, “You may have either but you should drink something. I’m also happy to bring you juice if you’d prefer.”

Emma opens her eyes and turns her head, the opportunity to catch Regina in a contradiction slightly more appealing than sleep for the moment. 

“I thought you said no soda?” she asks.

“This is natural, caffeine-free, and organic unlike what you were drinking at home.” 

Emma turns her gaze warily to where the beverage rests on her nightstand.

“Honestly, Emma, the fact that it isn’t filled with preservatives and corn syrup is certainly not going to make you feel any worse. Besides, it’s always Henry’s preference when he’s sick so I thought you might…” Regina trails off and Emma wonders where her thoughts have taken her. It’s unusual for her to leave anything without a definitive ending. However, she’s realizing she doesn’t have the energy to pursue an inquiry now. 

“Thank you,” Emma offers instead, punctuating the statement with a yawn and picking up the bottle of ginger ale to take a few sips before burrowing further under the covers. 

The only response from Regina is a soft exhale. Emma doesn’t have time to contemplate the exchange before falling into a deep sleep. 

*****

When Emma wakes up, it’s to the feel of the back of Regina’s palm resting against her forehead. She opens her eyes to see a frown gracing the other woman’s face. 

“Definitely a fever,” Regina pronounces, keeping her voice soft in deference to Emma’s headache and newly awakened state. “I’ve brought you some soup.”

“Not hungry,” Emma murmurs, eyes falling closed once again.

“You’ll need to eat regardless.” There’s no room for argument in Regina’s tone and, before Emma knows what’s happening, Regina is rearranging pillows and gently tugging Emma upward into a sitting position. Then Regina positions a tray over Emma’s lap and places a bowl of what is clearly homemade soup on the tray.

It’s all so domestic, the kind of thing people do for sick family members on TV or in movies. Emma feels like she’s somehow wound up in the middle of the wrong narrative. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” she says. 

“Nonsense,” Regina replies. “If your parents insist on being off frolicking in the woods, someone has to take care of you.”

“But I don’t want to get you sick. Or Henry,” Emma responds feebly. 

“Henry is on strict orders to stay out of your room until you’ve had more rest and are no longer contagious. And I do not get sick.” Regina says the last sentence like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Emma wonders if you can magic yourself not to get sick but mostly she thinks Regina’s probably stubborn enough to face down even germs. 

Speaking of stubborn, Regina eyes the bowl of soup and then directs her stare at Emma until Emma somewhat reluctantly picks up the spoon. She’d probably appreciate the soup a lot more if her stomach weren’t protesting with every mouthful but her attempts seem to satisfy Regina who, after watching a few bites carefully, turns as if to exit the room. Emma’s filled with a rush of inexplicable panic at the thought. 

“You could stay.” As soon as the words come out of her mouth, her tired mind catches up enough to regret them. She definitely wants Regina to stay but she didn’t mean to actually ask for it. She hastens to add. “I mean if you wanted to… for a minute… to make sure I eat more soup.” 

Regina’s only acknowledgment of the rambling addition to Emma’s initial request is a turned head and one slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Very well, I have some work to do and I may as well do it here.” There’s a chair in the corner of the room but Regina perches on the corner of the bed instead. With a poof of purple smoke there’s a laptop in her hands and then she’s typing away quietly. 

Emma’s staring at her with a whirl of emotions she’s way too foggy to process running through her brain when the sound of typing pauses for just a moment. 

“Eat,” Regina admonishes. 

And Emma definitely still feels like crap but she can’t help a small smile as she raises the spoon to her lips. 

What Emma’s thinking as she eats is that Regina’s beautiful when she works. She’s always gorgeous, of course. Like, hello. Emma has noticed. But Emma’s especially fond of watching Regina when she’s concentrating, working through some problem ﹘and they have plenty ﹘in that brilliant way of hers.

What comes out of Emma’s mouth when she decides to speak, however, is, “I like your face.” 

Regina’s lips thin as she presses them together but Emma’s pretty sure it’s more suppressed smile than suppressed irritation. She’s seen enough of both to know the difference. And she’s realizing it’s been a lot more of the first one directed at her lately which is pretty amazing.

“The fever is making you delirious,” Regina responds. 

“Maybe,” Emma agrees. “Still, it’s a nice face.” 

Regina pauses her typing again long enough to look directly at Emma and, yes, that’s definitely a smile. She leans toward her, a hand falling to rest on Emma’s knee. 

“Close your eyes and get some sleep, Miss Swan.” 

“Yes, ma’am, Mayor Mills.” 

****

The next thing Emma processes is cold. She’s covered in plenty of blankets but her whole body is shaking and, even when the shivering becomes enough to pull her fully out of sleep, she can’t stop it. 

The room is dark and unfamiliar and she’s alone and sick and scared. It’s like she’s seven years old in Boston with the flu or eleven years old in Minnesota after she broke her leg and she wants to cry. But she tells herself that will only make it worse and besides she’s an adult now; she’s supposed to be able to get sick without freaking out. So she slams her eyes shut tight and tries instead to focus on stilling her shaking muscles. 

And then she’s not alone. 

She feels another blanket being draped over her and Regina’s hands smoothing the blanket into place. She knows it’s Regina even though she doesn’t open her eyes. 

And then she does cry. It’s relief and pain all in one and she can’t stop it. 

Regina brushes a hand against her forehead and gently through her hair.

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” she says, and her voice is gentle like every comfort Emma ever wanted and never got. Then Regina is settling down on the mattress beside her and curling against her side, hand continuing to stroke Emma’s forehead. And the shaking doesn’t stop but Regina’s body is warm against hers and her hand trailing along Emma’s forehead is firm and steady until it feels more manageable somehow. 

They stay like that until the shaking subsides. There’s this feeling Emma can’t quite identify winding around her but it’s something like safety. She falls asleep with the sound of Regina’s breathing in her ear.

**** 

The next time Emma wakes up she feels human… and hungry. 

Her mind is still sluggish. She says Regina’s name before realizing the other woman is no longer there at the foot of the bed. But just as she’s tamping down a wave of disappointment, the door swings open. 

“Is everything alright? Did you need something?” Regina asks from where she now stands in the doorway.

“How’d you hear me? I barely…”

Regina rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t going to leave you truly unattended. I was listening in.”

“Magically? That’s super creepy but kind of awesome and useful. Can you teach me how to do that? I could totally use that for work.” 

“Perhaps when you’re better and if you can assure me you won’t abuse it. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty okay, actually,” Emma says, relieved to find that the more she wakes up the more true the statement is. 

Regina crosses the room to put the back of her hand against Emma’s forehead and Emma leans into the touch. After a few seconds Regina nods in a satisfied manner. 

“It does seem your fever is down,” she agrees. 

“Do you have any more soup?” Emma asks. Given the light outside and how absolutely ravenous she is, she’s pretty sure she slept through the night and well into the next day. 

“Of course.” Regina seems pleased she’s asked which maybe shouldn’t give Emma this entirely pleasant fluttery sensation in her stomach but absolutely does. “I made plenty. I’ll bring you another bowl.” 

“And maybe a donut?” Emma prods.

“Absolutely not,” Regina rebukes. 

“Oh, come on, Regina. You could just poof over to Granny’s and grab one for me.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t refer to it as ‘poofing’.” 

“Reginaaaa.” Emma knows she’s pushing her luck with this one but now that she’s fully awake and Regina’s standing here, she’s feeling almost giddy and she can’t quite reign herself in.

“Miss Swan,” Regina warns. But when Emma offers a responding pout she adds, “We will see how you feel after you finish your soup and, if you eat the entire bowl, I will consider getting you a donut.” 

“Yay!”

“I will consider it.”

“But that means you’re totally going to get it for me, right?” 

It’s with a heavy sigh that Regina turns and exits the room. She returns minutes later with a tray holding two bowls of soup this time. 

“Hold up. You said I only had to eat one bowl of soup to get my donut. No fair changing the rules, Regina.”

“Hush, Emma. I haven’t had lunch yet and figured now was as good a time for a break as any. The second bowl is for me.” 

“Oh…” And that’s all Emma gets out because after Regina positions the tray over Emma’s lap, she props a pillow against the headboard and settles into a seated position right next to Emma and grabs the second bowl like apparently they’re just going to sit here in bed together and eat soup which is one hundred percent not a thing Emma had anticipated happening. 

She eats a few spoonfuls of soup which, now that she no longer feels dreadful, she can fully appreciate as the best chicken and rice soup she’s ever had. And, as she often does, she finds herself wondering if Regina is bad at anything. 

“This is nice,” she says. “The soup, which actually isn’t just nice, it’s freaking delicious, but also hanging out with you. I mean I know you were in bed with me last night but I was too out of it to appreciate it.” 

It turns out Regina even chokes on her food classily. There’s a muffled noise and Emma looks over to see her dabbing at her face with a napkin, eyes focused very determinedly on the bedspread and not Emma.

“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Emma can feel the heat spreading up her chest and to her cheeks which are undoubtedly turning red. “I mean not that I wouldn’t appreciate you in… I mean I totally would… but I… Oh, God.”

“I’m pleased to have confirmation that you’re back to your old self, Emma,” Regina responds, having regained her composure far too quickly for Emma’s liking. 

“I’m just going to finish my soup and possibly never say anything else ever again.” Emma stabs her spoon into her soup a little too enthusiastically to emphasize her point and some of the broth splashes out onto the tray. 

Regina lets out a low laugh but is kind enough not to comment further. 

They do finish their soup in silence but after the first few seconds it’s not awkward at all and Regina doesn’t show any signs of leaving even after they’re both done and she’s taken the tray from Emma’s lap and set it on the nightstand. So Emma decides it’s probably safe to speak again. 

“Thank you.”

“I enjoy cooking. There’s no need to thank me.” 

And Emma could just leave it at that. Maybe it would be more comfortable but it doesn’t feel like enough so she pushes forward. 

“No, I mean for everything, for taking care of me.” 

“Again, there’s no need to thank me. You’re Henry’s other mother and we’re… friends.” Regina hesitates on the word “friends” but in a way Emma likes, like it’s insufficient instead of untrue. “Besides, Regina continues, “I wasn’t going to let you hasten your own death by attempting to take care of yourself.” 

“Well, that’s just gross exaggeration.” Regina lets out a dismissive snort before Emma continues. “But that’s what I mean. I’m kind of used to it, taking care of myself. Even the people who were supposed to take care of me never really took care of me when I was sick, much less people who don’t have to. So it’s kind of a big deal to me and I’m saying thanks.” 

Emma doesn’t know quite how to read Regina’s silence and she can’t bring herself to look over at her, so she studies the wall instead and waits until Regina speaks again.

“That’s… Emma, you deserve to have people take care of you.” Regina puts a hand on Emma’s shoulder as she speaks and Emma leans into it without thinking until there’s no space between them and they’re side to side. So, when Regina drops her hand from Emma’s shoulder, her hand falls right on top of Emma’s and it’s so easy for Emma to lace her fingers with Regina’s 

Emma holds her breath, waiting, almost expecting Regina to move away. But then Regina starts to slowly stroke Emma’s thumb with her own.

“Regina?” 

“Yes?”

“I know you don’t get sick but, if you did, I’d totally take care of you, too.” 

Regina’s thumb stills for a moment and then continues to stroke against Emma’s. 

“You have many wonderful qualities but I fear caring for the ill may not be one of them,” Regina replies, but her voice breaks just a little bit and Emma thinks maybe she said a pretty good thing. 

“I can learn to make soup. There are recipes on the internet.”

“Emma, you are not learning to make soup from the internet. Come over this weekend. I’ll teach you.” 

“Cool, will you teach me that magic listening thing, too?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Regina,” Emma begins tentatively, “if you teach me to make soup, and then we eat the soup together, is that like a date?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Oh,” Emma replies, trying and utterly failing not to sound disappointed. But then Regina squeezes her hand just slightly in reassurance. 

“A first date is not done over soup nor in the woods despite what lessons your clueless parents may have taught you with their poor example. When you’re over this weekend, if you’d like, we’ll make arrangements for a proper first date.” 

“Well, I mean if you want. You seem pretty into the idea of dating me so I don’t want to disappoint you.” Confidence returning and the rush of _ohmygod_ a date with Regina flowing through her veins, Emma nudges Regina shoulder to shoulder as she speaks and, since everything else is going so well and she actually is getting tired again, she decides to just rest her head against Regina’s shoulder and stay there. 

It feels pretty perfect. 

“Great. It’s settled,” Regina says sounding more than a little satisfied.

“Super settled. So settled,” Emma agrees. 

“Do you always have to keep talking?”

“You totally dig it. You just asked me on a date,” Emma singsongs before closing her eyes. 

“Technically you asked me on a date first and I simply corrected your notion of what entailed a date and then asked you on a proper date.” 

“Do you always have to keep talking?” Emma mutters sleepily. 

“Oh, shut up.”


End file.
